


mired in gravity, earthbound

by placentalmammal



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, Mild Gore, Pre-Canon, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 05:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: "We’re ankle-deep in blood, and all because we ate the birds, we ate them a long time ago, when we still had the power to say no."Angelo appears like a specter outside Adelaide's door, and she does what she can for him.





	mired in gravity, earthbound

Adelaide wakes to a knock on the door, a flurry of fists against the blonde wood. She had been dreaming of her childhood in Ordenna, a memory gilded in nostalgia—barefoot walks by the sea, sand between her toes as she digs for clams. For a few moments, she is lost in the space between sleep and wakefulness, and she mistakes the frantic knocking for cannon fire. Her pleasant dream dissolves in smoke and blood, and her brother’s voice cuts through her confusion.

“Please, Ada,” he sobs, “please, _please_ open the door—”

She is out of bed in an instant, dragging her blankets behind her like a heavy cloak. She fumbles with the lock and throws the door open and Angelo stumbles through, shirtfront drenched in blood. Crying out in alarm, Adelaide rushes forward, trying to catch him before he collapses. She puts her arms around him and they go to their knees together, her supporting his weight. He’s sobbing, crying like a child in her arms.

Adelaide can’t keep the panic from her voice. “What happened?” she says, mind racing. Someone has finally pierced the veil surrounding their city, Ordenna or the University or some new enemy, risen up from obscurity and come to burn their libraries and put their citizens to the sword. “Angelo, talk to me. What happened? Are you hurt?”

Clammy and trembling, he shakes his head. “He’s dead,” he says, voice clotted with emotion. His hands and face are streaked with gore, leaving red smears on her nightgown. “Ada, he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead? Angelo, what—”

“The blood,” he babbles, clutching at her sleeve. “it’s not mine, Ada. It’s his, it’s his, I killed him, _god_ I’ve killed him!” His voice breaks and he begins to wail, head thrown back in anguish.

Adelaide’s blood turns to ice water in her veins. “Angelo,” she says, calm and cold. “Where is our father?”

Angelo shakes his head, lips pressed thin.

Cold certainty crashes over her. The tether between her mind and body snaps, and she watches herself shove Angelo away. He crumples at her feet, a sobbing heap on the tile, and she stands, bloodied and unblinking, cold as marble. “Where is he?” she says, her voice strange and harsh.

“T-the drawing room,” Angelo sputters. “Ada, please, don’t leave me—”

She steps over him, bare feet silent against the stone floor. Adelaide drifts down the hall in pursuit of herself, watching dispassionately as she enters the drawing room and finds her father dead on the floor. His mouth is open and his eyes bulge out, and his throat is open and red red red—

 _He looks just like a person_ , she thinks, and she turns on her feel and goes back to her room. Angelo is still on the floor, resisting feebly when she takes him by the collar and hauls him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry, Ada, I’m so, so sorry.”

She slaps him, once, across the face. It’s a good blow, and Angelo falls silent, spluttering.

“You can’t stay here,” she says, shaking him.

He swallows a shuddering sob, and she feels no pity. “Where will I go?”

“Away,” she says. “Ordenna or Velas. Anywhere Brandish has gone and come back from.”

“I can’t,” he says, and he begins to cry again. “Ada, I’m not like you. I—I can’t. I’m not brave, I’m not clever. All I’ve ever been is his son, and—”

“Listen,” she says, venom dripping from every syllable, “they’ll kill you if you stay. I will _not_ lose a father and a brother on the same day.”

“Ada—”

She gives no quarter. “Go find his signet ring,” she says, and the plan comes to her all at once, fully-formed, a pearl rattling loose in her nacreous thoughts. “I’ll write something in his hand and we’ll seal it with the Imperial mark. Take the sea tunnels down to the docks and commandeer a vessel. Go north to Velas.”

“What will I do?” he whispers. “Ada, what will I do with myself?”

“Start over. Become someone else.” She pushes him toward the door. “The ring,” she says. “Go, now.”

Staggering like a drunkard, Angelo goes out into the hall. Adelaide turns and surveys her room, the untidy writing desk and the bloody counterpane on the floor. She moves like an automaton, crossing to the wardrobe and throwing the door open, rummaging through silk and velvet until she finds the plain, serviceable clothing concealed at the back. Ordinary things, pants and shirts and shoes, ‘borrowed’ from maids and pages, hers to wear when she slips over the palace walls and into the city to relive her childhood among the bakers and fishmongers.

It should all fit Angelo. They’re of a size, a perfectly matched pair.

From her own clothing, she selects a doublet and trousers and lays them out on the bed. The servants’ clothes go in a sturdy canvas bag, which she sets on the floor beside a pair of well-worn loafers. Angelo returns, the signet ring clutched in his fist.

“There’s water in the ewer,” she says, and she takes the ring from him. Her father’s seal, mirrored and set in silver. It shines like a star, beautiful in her palm. She looks up at Angelo, and he’s staring at her, utterly lost.

“Wash,” she says, pointing insistently at the basin beside the bed. “And get dressed. Take something from my jewelry box, you’ll need money where you’re going.”

He swallows. “I can’t do this.”

She crosses to her desk, pretending not to have heard him. She takes a piece of parchment from the stack and dips a fresh quill in ink. It’s been _years_ since she practiced her father’s handwriting, but none of the captains will dare question a prince. Mouth set, Adelaide takes up a candle and drips wax onto the paper, then stamps it with the Imperial crest of Nacre.

Her father’s ghost presses close, and she shivers.

Adelaide turns to see Angelo hovering by the door, freshly scrubbed and dressed like a scion of the Empire of Pearls. Her heart swells up with something like love, and she clasps his hand, afraid to hug him for fear of soiling his clothing.

“You can’t ever come back,” she says softly. “They’ll arrest you and they’ll put you on trial, and they’ll kill you three times.” She finds herself back in her own body, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Angelo nods.

“They’ll call you a traitor. A criminal.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand. “Take care of yourself, brother-mine.”

He blinks, swallows. “Ada—”

“Go.”

He pulls her in for a hug; a final fleeting embrace. “What will I do without you?” he whispers, helpless.

She shoves him away, shaking her head. He turns to go, and she closes her eyes, unable to bear the sight of his retreating back. She counts to a thousand, waiting for his hurried footsteps to fade into silence. Once she’s satisfied that he’s gone, she opens her eyes and gathers up his discarded clothing, thrusting the bloody bundle into the fireplace. She watches it burn, her mind an empty vessel, and then she crosses to the windows to stare out at the harbor. When the sun rises, she will ‘discover’ her father and raise the alarm. Angelo will be gone by then, a speck on the horizon, far enough away that they won’t ever catch him.

Alone, except for her father’s body cooling in the next room, Adelaide wraps her arms around herself and waits for dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> You know how it is with siblings, it's either ride or die or "no officer, I've never seen this person before in my life."
> 
> Congrats to all the friends for finishing another fantastic season, hosting a fantastic livestream, and blasting ANOTHER monthly goal out of the water!


End file.
